


Demons, Angels and Post Armageddon

by trappedinrhevoid



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, rule!63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trappedinrhevoid/pseuds/trappedinrhevoid





	Demons, Angels and Post Armageddon

‘You there angel?’ Crowley calls through to the back of the stuffy bookshop  
‘Where else would I be, darling?’ Came the reply. Now that Armageddon had been averted the angel and demon found they had a lot of spare time of their hands due to the fuss going on upstairs, and down. 

As per every other night, Aziraphale was bent over the latest addition to her book collection (which was growing at an alarming rate, the walls of the rammed London shop barley containing the countless tomes. However, if the walls seemed further apart on each visit, Crowley didn’t mention anything). 

‘I bought wine!’ Crowley said with a flourish, producing the vintage from under her leather coat. ‘Glasses?’  
‘You broke them remember? Something to do with that temping of the Irish man. Mugs will have to do.’  
‘Classy.’ Huffed Crowley, carefully stepping over crumbling hardbacks to the tiny kitchen at the back of the room. Crowley supposed the place was really looking well, especially after the ordeal it had been through, what with the duke of hell burning it almost to the ground. The smell of smoke had almost lifted (probably due to the help of Zira’s countless scented candles dotted around the place, much to the chagrin of the local fire department). 

Holding a mug in either hand, she perched herself on the end of the small table where the Aziraphale was silently working. ‘You’re quiet tonight, Angel’ she questioned while handing the mug to her friend (friend. She was still getting to grips with that. Angels and demons aren’t friends, nor are they acquaintances, or drinking partners nor duck feeders). Aziraphale sighed and she rubbed her eyes behind the spectacles sitting on the end of her nose. ‘Agnes Nutter really was an amazing women, offer her rocker obviously. And she of course handed that down to her great-something granddaughter, who seems to have developed a pig-headedness of her own. I can’t believe she kicked me in the shin for that book.’  
‘You know we don’t actually feel pain?’ sniggered the demon, ‘Are you still upset over that?’  
‘No.’  
‘Of course.’ 

They fell into silence as they sipped at their cups. Crowley drawing from a tartan mug. Damn angel and her damn tastes (obviously, it’s impossible and unfair to Damn an angel over their tastes in home decor).

‘So what’re you plans for the night, dear?’ the angel questioned. Crowley shrugged as she stared at the withering plant on the window ledge. ‘Well I was going to go and take a well deserved 5 day nap. But the smell of rotting demon is still lingering in my living room. Completely unpleasant when one is attempting to sleep.’

‘Stay here if you like,’ Aziraphale shrugged. Crowley raised her eyebrows at the angel who was flicking dust off a book in an obvious attempt to seem blasé.  
‘Stay here? Does The Arrangement have footnotes for this?’  
‘I’m just trying to help, dear, i’m an angel, it’s what I do,’ She replied looking up at Crowley through the fringe that had fallen in her eyes.  
‘Right, of course.’ Crowley muttered into her mug.  
‘Of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ Aziraphale replied with a shrug of her shoulders, as she examined her already immaculate finger nails.  
‘No! I want to,’ *Cough* (Smooth, Demon) ‘If that’s okay with you,’  
‘Perfectly fine, dear. Let’s get you settled up stairs.’ Zira replied, standing up. Just as she was about to step forward the full, original and signed works of Aristotle caught the angel’s foot sending her flying (no pun intended) into the startled face of the demon. They both went crashing to the floor, coat tails and pages of Dickens flung up into the air.  
‘Jesu-Go-Sata-SOMEONE.’ The Demon shouted, arms full of the soft (soft?!) book-keeper.  
‘I’m so sorry, dear. Are you okay?’ the Angel said, words muffled against the demon’s neck.

‘Yea-,’ Crowley’s words were cut off as the sensation of the angel’s breath skittered across the pale skin of her throat and she quietly gasped (later she would deny all accusations of gasping, moaning and/or squealing). Aziraphale looked down questioningly at the demon held between her thighs. Crowley’s eyes flickered up to the angel sat on her stomach. What she saw was something… New. Was that a flash of sin crossing the Angel’s eyes? Her thoughts we’re soon affirmed as Aziraphale sank back down to tentatively bite at the demon’s throat, drawing another moan from the Agent of Hell, Seducer of Women and Bringer of General Annoyance. 

‘Well this is new,’ The Aziraphale said, a wicked (and wholly un-angelic) smile flashing at the corner of her mouth.  
‘You don’t sssssay.’ The demon watched as the angel’s eyes flickered to her mouth and back, ‘I’ve waited through the whole bloody Armageddon, I ssswear i’ll personally send you to Hell in a hand-basket if you don’t kisss me.’  
‘I think I might be going there, hand-basket or no.’ The she grinned before she crashing her mouth against Crowley’s. 

The kiss was all tongue and teeth and surely they don’t teach Angel’s to kiss like this in Heaven.  
‘So, how about that bed?'

(This was Hell’s doing, Crowley was sure of it).


End file.
